
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.. '2 3 Copyright No., 

SheltlB.^ 7 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 














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RETRIBUTION 


At Last 


A Mormon Tragedy of the Rockies, 



CHAS. BREWER, M. D. 


CINCINNATI 

THE EDITOR PUBLISHING CO. 
1899. 

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PZ3. 

.37^6^ 


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35579 





Copyright 

The Editor Publishing Company 
1899 . 

TWO COPIED KECElVeO. 


'JS-W F Cotter > 
office ^ 

JUN 1 0 1899 

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2,<kUiy-o 
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RETRIBUTION AT LAST. 

A 2TCormon Crageby of tfye Rockies. 

BY 

f\r) Ex-offie<?r /T^dieal Staff U. S. firmy. 



INTRODUCTORY. 


In presenting to the public this short 
story in the form of a Romance, it is but 
fair to state that in it allusions are at 
times made to historical events and local- 
ities, and especially to one of the most 
hideous, actual tragedies ever enacted on 
this Continent, not even excluding the 
massacres by the savages in the early set- 
tlement of the country ; a tragedy the 
brutalities of which the mother tongue 
hardly affords words sufficiently forcible to 
describe; an accomplished tragedy, which, 
although gloated over by the male Mormon 
enactors of it, nevertheless, for years after, 
in its narration caused the cheeks of Mor- 
mon females to blanch with fear and shame. 
The author of this little story writes not 
at random, nor repeats from hearsay, his 
convictions having been received in a per- 
sonal contact with the people, parties and 
events to which reference is made in the 
narrative. 

In a prominent position he was a resident 


INTRODUCTORY. 


of the Territory of Utah for nearly three 
years. He was personally acquainted with 
the leader of the Mormon Hierarchy and 
its prominent officials, his professional 
services having been solicited by them, and 
cheerfully rendered on more than one try- 
ing occasion. It was his lot to have, by 
means of a critical operation in surgery, 
restored to health and activity a son of a 
prominent Mormon Bishop, and this at the 
cost of the life of a conspicuous and valued 
non-commissioned officer of the U. S. Tenth 
Regular Infantry, who afterward with 
impunity to his beneficiary and assassin, 
who had effected his escape, was murdered 
in the streets of Salt Lake City. 

Familiarity with their Press and Pulpit 
utterances; constant personal collision with 
the people and at intervals short periods of 
necessary visitation to, or temporary resi- 
dence in their households, thoroughly con- 
vinced the writer of the enormity of the 
moral prostitution consequent on their biga- 
mous practices. 

In communication with an intelligent 
Mormon couple of reputable English descent 
— Monogamists, however — and for whom 
I entertained respect, my convictions were 
more fully established to the effect that 
the demoralization of the Mormon women 
as dependent upon their gross association 


INTRODUCTORY. 


with men of beastly organization, to whom 
they must submit at the fear of loss of life, 
was simply appalling. As this fact was be- 
ing emphasized by them, through adductive 
evidence, they were both watching the 
windows and doors of their residence as if 
in mortal dread of the walls having ears, 
and of the great peril as though the wide 
system of espionage then prevalent they 
were incurring by their disclosures. An 
article of the asserted Faith of this People 
being, that it was a mercy to kill a recal- 
citrant Mormon, and that they were thus 
doing God a service, and saving the soul of 
the offender; only when under the protec- 
tion of the U. S. guns or being escorted by 
them in safety beyond what was defined 
as the Mormon Territory, did those of this 
misguided people who were convinced of 
their error, dare to unloose their tongues, 
being in constant dread and not without 
reason of being pursued and murdered by 
the so called Danites or Destroying Angels. 

The effect of the prevalent family-harem 
on children brought in unquarreled contact 
with every phase and degree of the connu- 
bial relation was actually shocking. 

In illustration of this, as at one time 
whilst riding through a Mormon village in 
company with a newly arrived Washington 
official, this fact was being emphasized, 


INTRODUCTORY. 


the evidence adduced seemed too strange 
to be believed, and his doubts were only 
completely removed by answers — too 
immorally gross to be repeated here — elic- 
ited from two Mormon children of tender 
years, accidentally met upon the highway, 
and to whom plain, pure, but leading ques- 
tions had been put. 

As depicted by both Mormon and Gentile 
evidence, sickening features of the massacre, 
at the Mountain Meadows, the locality of 
which was visited by the writer, who also 
assisted in the collection and burial of the 
remains of the massacred, still haunts the 
writer’s memory. 

Acquainted with the 'personnel and effects 
of the train referred to, whilst en route to 
Utah Territory, it was also his priv- 
ilege to assist in the recovery of the very 
little ones whose lives had been spared, as 
it is his privilege now to express his 
appreciation of the tireless efforts and 
unshrinking fidelity of the Indian Agent of 
the Territory and of the three presiding U. 
S. Justices, towards the accomplishment 
of this end, as through the authority 
vested in them by the general government. 

This story has been invited by the vol- 
untary resurrection of old corpses. What 
has been written was with no intent of 
rekindling old animosities, of awakening 

iv 


INTRODUCTORY. 


new antipathies or encouraging any form 
of interstate estrangement, but simply as 
an exposition of abuses once originated and 
developed and likely to arise again, 
in communities organized on an unsound 
moral basis, and conducted in open antag- 
onism to the pronounced spirit of the age, 
and the unqualified opinions of a whole 
nation, of which that community is an 
integral part. 

If one word which has been uttered may 
serve to open the eyes of the people or their 
rulers to the seriousness of the present sit- 
uation in the state of Utah, and to the 
importance of securing a permanent and 
final decision upon a moral issue supposed 
to have been long ago settled, but which 
like a hydra-headed monster, again rears 
its crest to imperil the safety and inviol- 
ability of one of the most sacred and valued 
institutions bequeathed to us by our fore- 
fathers, then this short narrative will not 
have been written in vain. 

The Author. 


v 




RETRIBUTION AT LAST. 


f\ /I\or/r\or> Jra<^dy of tl?<$ I^OQ^ie$. 


CHAPTER I. 

After a stern and protracted winter, 
spring, with all the beauty of a fairy dream, 
had at last dawned on the rich rolling 
prairies of Kansas Territory. 

In every direction over its virgin soil 
there met the eye of the traveler, geome- 
tric groups of driven stakes representing 
mapped out towns projected by scheming 
speculators in preparation for a tidal 
influx of energetic settlers. 

The cabins of the immigrants were 
springing into existence like mush- 
rooms in a night, hut possibly to disap- 
pear as suddenly in the mould of an ember- 


1 


RETRIBUTION. 


marked oblivion. The dark tide of ill 
regulated human passion which had been 
sweeping, now forward, now backward, 
along the territorial border, had for the 
moment reached its ebb; but only that 
beneath a deceitful calm, it might gather 
strength for the returning flood, and to 
surge in destructive billows, submerging 
fortunes, friendships, homes, happiness, in 
fact all met within its destructive path- 
way. 

Aggression and retaliation had become 
the order of the day. The great moral 
question of right and wrong had become 
involved in the settlement of the Territory. 
Politics, like a huge, hungry giant, had 
leaped into the arena, and the questions 
at issue, forestalling issues even more 
momentous, seemed likely to be settled 
only by the arbitrament of the sword. 

Conditions resultant from these agita- 
tions, were at the special moment to which 
we refer, the subject of conversation 
between a sturdy farmer and his wife, an 
attractive and refined looking young 
woman, as they sat side by side on a huge 


2 


RETRIBUTION. 


log at the door of a comfortable cabin in a 
bend of the river called the Little Blue. 

He had just returned with his ox-team 
from the low lands near by, and as the 
beasts stood at rest, panting beneath their 
heavy load of logs, a toddling urchin, 
rosy-cheeked and curly haired, had at his 
peril clambered to the top of the load, from 
which with a miniature whip in hand, he 
was imitating to the best of his ability the 
popular emigrant strain, “Ge-wo-wha — 
git up Bright !” 

Below, and to his apparent satisfaction, 
a large Newfoundland dog stood watching 
the proceedings of the baby boy. 

“You ask for my decision, Helen? For 
the first time since our marriage you find 
me hesitant. I have, however, concluded 
to leave the issue entirely with you. I 
have fully informed you of my own convic- 
tions of prospects here, and shall now be 
guided in my action by whatever you may 
determine to be the best for your own con- 
tentment and happiness.’ ’ 

“Then, Robert, although most unwill- 
ingly driven to the conclusion, and whilst 


3 


RETRIBUTION. 


it is a costly surrender of my anticipations, 
to abandon the successful results of our 
labors here, and to leave the spot where 
we have passed so many happy hours 
together, I advise chat the contemplated 
move had better be made.” 

4 ‘Your conclusion, Helen, gives me much 
relief. The move under consideration, is I 
believe, more essential to my own happi- 
ness than to yours. Not without my own 
convictions of right and wrong in this 
case, I have nevertheless, through love of 
peace, fortunately thus far held myself 
aloof from the discord and dissensions in 
which our neighboring settlers have become 
involved, and I have remained in peaceable 
relations with all men. But this choice 
may not always be left me. Like others I 
may eventually be drawn into this fierce 
political maelstrom, and with all that is 
dear to me sunk in its whirling vortex. 
You are well aware that our settlement in 
this western home was in search of peace 
and quietude and order and a restful dis- 
entanglement from both social discord and 
political strife. 


4 


RETRIBUTION. 


“The fair and far off summer vale beyond 
the Rockies gives, as pictured to us, far 
better promise of becoming the El Dorado 
of our desires.’ ’ 

In this latter utterance, Robert Gordon 
had spoken with much feeling. His sen- 
sitively organized nature had received a 
severe shock in its collision with what, in 
the impetuosity and inconsiderateness of 
youth, he accepted as the harsh and im- 
perious edict of paternal authority. 

He longed for peace and solitude in some 
visionary “Vale of Tempe” where there 
would be afforded an opportunity of apply- 
ing to his wound the soothing balm of 
nature’s placid charms. 

A change having been decided upon, dur- 
ing the following summer and winter the 
hero and heroine of our narrative applied 
themselves to the task of preparation for 
removal with all the system and energy to 
be expected from two such vigorous and 
sympathetic natures. 

In view of the advantages of its location 
and its substantial improvements, the dis- 
posal of the farm proved an easier task 


5 


RETRIBUTION. 


than was expected, and it now only re- 
mained to complete numerous minor ar- 
rangements and details necessary to so long 
and venturesome a journey over the arid 
plains and lofty mountain ranges of the 
then inhospitable west. 

One by one these less important matters 
were satisfactorily settled, and with the 
coming of another spring all was found in 
readiness for the first fair opportunity 
which might offer. 

A journey of such length and exposure 
was not to be rashly undertaken by the 
few, unless under most propitious circum- 
stances, but was generally effected by the 
consolidation of bodies of emigrants, 
who uniting their interests and forming a 
defensive alliance, stood better chances of 
reaching the goal of their destination. 


6 


CHAPTER II. 


But it may be of interest to learn how 
these two young adventurers happened at 
this time to be found on the Kansas 
border. 

“After careful reflection, Eloise, I can 
no longer conscientiously oppose the boy’s 
wishes. I am aware of the fact that the 
line of life he has mapped out for himself 
is at variance with the judicious plans we 
have matured for his welfare. I can too, 
fully appreciate how harshly this new de- 
parture from the arranged programme must 
grate on a nature as sensitive as your own. 
And yet after all, it is possible that this 
unlooked for result is only the reappearance 
of heredity in the third generation, and for 
all we know it may possibly be his destiny 
to become as distinguished a military hero 
as were some of his ancestors.” 

These were the words of a hale, hand- 
some man of about forty-five years of age, 

7 


RETRIBUTION. 


whose well ordered mental organization 
and well developed moral principles were 
on a par with his noble face and finely 
moulded figure. 

They were addressed to a fair, refined, 
but frail looking woman who, as she re- 
clined in a delicately fashioned fauteuil in 
a large mansion on Fifth Avenue, New 
York, seemed hardly robust enough to en- 
dure so compulsory an issue on a subject 
which had long been under serious con- 
sideration between herself and her husband. 

“The die is cast then, Robert! This 
means ultimately a separation from my 
boy. The trial is one hard to be 
borne. Nor can I cheerfully reconcile my- 
self to the thought of his necessary expo- 
sure, as incident to the life of a young 
officer on the frontier. But whilst we are 
discussing this matter it would be well for 
me to say to you, that his reticence on 
another subject has caused me deep solici- 
tude. Nor have I been able to elicit from 
him any expression of his feelings, when I 
attempted to broach it, save in a most friv- 
olous way. I am satisfied, nevertheless, 

8 


KETKIBUTION. 


that there is some danger of his entangle- 
ment in a mesalliance , which should it 
occur, would cause me deep pain. As he 
is yet so young, it is possible that this 
change in his life may create a healthy 
diversion, and thus much trouble be saved 
in the future, both to him and to us.” 

“Do not give yourself, Eloise, overmuch 
anxiety on this subject. I fear you hardly 
understand as much about boy’s love as I 
do. Men have all to pass through a stage 
of heart acclimation before they arrive at 
that point where the heart tablet has been 
educated, or better fitted for the reception 
of a permanent impression. The boy will 
doubtless come out all right as others have 
done before him.” 

So it was finally determined that Robert 
Gordon, the younger, a presentable young 
fellow, of cheerful buoyant disposition, 
generous impulses and popular among his 
comrades, but imperfectly developed as his 
parents thought, in will power, should be 
permitted to apply for admission to the U. 
S. Military Academy at West Point, and so 
gratify the ruling desire of his young life. 


9 


RETRIBUTION. 


How far the attainment of another pro- 
ject in unison with it was to he a matter of 
success, the future must be left to show. 

Indeed at the very moment when the 
future profession of the young hero was 
being decided upon, at a retired suburban 
cottage not many miles distant, he could 
have been seen at arose embowered wicket 
and by the side of a fair flaxen haired 
young creature, possibly destined to exer- 
cise a controlling influence over his life, 
and who to all appearances was fully re- 
ciprocating the sympathetic expression 
that lighted up his handsome face, now all 
aglow with the fervor of youthful love. 

“Yes, Helen, I mean every word I say, I 
am inexpressibly happy in the knowledge 
that my love is reciprocated, and there is 
nothing under heaven that can ever 
separate me from you.” 

“But are such rash promises, Rob, as 
equally easy of fulfillment? I am satisfied 
that you love me dearly, but are you sure 
that the consent of your parents can be 
won to our protracted engagement?” 

“To accomplish this, Helen, shall be the 


10 


RETRIBUTION. 


burden of my constant toil. Surely there 
is nothing my parents could urge against 
one as lovely in face and character as your 
own maidenly self. And a great argument 
to be used in removing any possible opposi- 
tion, will be your positive unwillingness to 
confer such happiness on me at the cost of 
their respect. I feel sure, my dear girl, 
that I shall win their consent to our be- 
trothal.” 

\ 


11 


CHAPTER III. 


In the tidy martial figure, clad in the 
gray uniform of a West Point Cadet, seen 
standing in front of the Post Commandant 
at his headquarters, and in the attitude of 
saluting that grave dignitary, hut for the 
same jolly bright eye and frank, cheerful 
countenance, one would hardly have re- 
cognized the young metropolitan aspirant 
for military honors of two years previous. 

“Cadet Gordon, your conduct as reported 
by your superior officer is positively most 
reprehensible, and deserving of conspicu- 
ous rebuke. But for special credits due 
you for previous gallant conduct under 
circumstances to which I need not now re- 
fer, but of which you shall receive the full 
benefit, the consequences of such thought- 
less conduct might be to you, most 
disastrous. As the case stands, let there 
be in the future no such interviews as 
this. Such breaches of discipline cannot be 


12 


RETRIBUTION. 


frequently tolerated. Remember, sir, that 
to the character of a soldier capable of 
fulfilling the duties his country will ex- 
pect of him, dignity of bearing and sub- 
jection to discipline are as equally essential 
as is scientific attainment. You can now 
return to your quarters.” 

“A lucky fellow and a very narrow escape, 
my dear Bob. How would a faithful re- 
port of this interview be appreciated by 
your indulgent governor, or that fair being 
at his side who has dropped her angel 
wings and consorted with rough man, that 
she might mould a character as thought- 
less and heedless as yours? See my boy, 
it was really thoughtlessness after all, but 
we must grasp the curb rein with a firmer 
hand, else some day the colt will throw his 
rider.” 

After such manner the young cadet com- 
muned with himself and thereupon formed 
new resolutions which it would have been 
well for his future had he religiously kept. 

He was a bold, accomplished young 
soldier, but too high spirited, too giddy, 
too heedless, to maintain that equipoise 


13 


RETRIBUTION. 


necessary to the completion of a genuine 
military training. 

The difficulty in this case had been that 
a Herculean young plebe, recently imported 
from the high-toned soil of Kentucky, had 
himself raised the question, and under dire 
threats, as to who would be so rash as to 
repeat upon his person the exploit, not 
many weeks before practiced upon another 
plebe of less dangerous dimensions ; viz,, 
the seizing of him by the legs, when in en- 
campment on some dark rainy night, the 
rolling of him in his blanket, the dragging 
of him by the heels around the inner circle 
and his final precipitation into an accom- 
modating mud puddle. 

The temptation had proved too strong 
for our enthusiastic young aspirant for 
fame and fun. But alas, in this instance 
it was not with the result of a quiet little 
boxing match in Kosciusko’s Garden, but 
at the cost of a severe and serious re- 
primand at the hands of the Commandant. 

As the accepted leader of his wild young 
comrades in all their mad freaks and fol- 
lies, and ever pushed to the front, but not 


14 


RETRIBUTION. 


unwillingly, in all their frolicsome es- 
capades, it eventually fixed itself as a fact 
in the mind of the popular Bob: “That 
whilst all work and no play makes 
Jack a dull boy,'’ so likewise most play and 
little study made Bob a poor scholar. 

And so it happened on one sad day whilst 
Bob sat in a cozy nook in Lovers’ Retreat, 
on the banks of the Hudson, perusing again 
and again a fragrant letter that had 
brought with it delicious day dreams of 
trailing tulle and fragrant orange blossoms, 
he received information that he had failed 
in his examinations, and would accordingly 
be dropped from the rolls of the Academy. 

A thunderbolt from a clear sky could 
not have fallen more startlingly than did 
this announcement on the ears of the young 
cadet. 

The horizon swam before him. An 
Erebus-like shadow seemed to interpose 
itself between himself and the glaring sun 
in the mid-day heavens. The personal 
mortification of his failure was in itself in- 
tolerable. But how could he face a disap- 
pointed, an angered and almost disgraced 


15 


RETRIBUTION. 


father; and how meet the tender piteous 
glance of one who from his birth had 
held him almost as her idol? 

But with a soldier, the inevitable must 
be met bravely, and with a soldier’s true 
spirit. Now the interview was at hand. 

“How can such a result as is reported to 
me be possible, my son? It seems like some 
hideous nightmare. Am I really called 
upon to endure this mocking, crushing dis- 
appointment? And in the face of those to 
whom I have so often and with pride, 
boasted of your future prospects? My boy, 
oh my boy ! How could you be so cruel to 
yourself and to those who loved you so 
fondly?” 

“I was but thoughtless, my dear father, 
and I sincerely and sorrowfully acknowl- 
edge my pride and my error in accepting 
the position of model hero to my young 
scapegrace companions, who little thought 
they were assisting me towards such a 
disaster. Give me, father, one fair trial 
more in some other direction, and the past 
shall be fully redeemed?” 

“I will do it, my boy.” 


16 


RETRIBUTION. 


And from that moment there was re- 
established between father and son, the 
same degree of affection and cordiality 
which had previously existed. Was it not 
truly unfortunate that upon a horizon so 
fair and full of promise, another threatening 
specter should arise, and this too in form 
of grace and beauty? 

In the plans shaped out for the welfare 
of his only son, an element had entered, of 
which the latter was entirely ignorant. 

In arranging for his admission to the 
banking-house of which he, Robert Gordon, 
Sr., was the prominent partner, it had 
been further proposed that his son should 
eventually lead to the altar one of the 
sweetest and loveliest of her sex. 

After completing her education at home, 
Evelyn De Ruyeter had spent several years 
in foreign travel, and on her return to her 
native land was on the point of visiting 
Mrs. Gordon, an old schoolmate of her 
mother. As was natural to expect, and 
after a short acquaintance and intimate 
association with Miss De Ruyeter, Robert 
had been struck wdth her rare beauty and 


17 


RETRIBUTION. 


equally attracted by her rich accomplish- 
ments, the native ease of her address, and 
the winning grace of her bearing. Beyond 
this point the influence of her personal 
magnetism had not extended. 

On the sensitive tablet of Robert’s heart 
an image had already been indelibly im- 
pressed, and one which time and circum- 
stances would prove powerless to erase. 

The fates had woven the threads of two 
young lives into a magnetic cable. From 
their satisfactory mooring at either termi- 
nal, it was not likely that one or the other 
would seek a severance. How much more 
unfortunate that through the timidity 
and lack of confidence on the part of the 
son, this state of affairs had not been 
earlier made known to the father. The two 
were now standing face to face in the rear 
portico of the home mansion, where for a 
short time they had been promenading 
arm in arm. 

“I am completing arrangements, Robert, 
for your early admission into our banking- 
house, where I have reason to believe that 
you will win the confidence of my partners, 


18 


RETRIBUTION. 


and in time do honor to the firm. In 
further provision for your future comfort 
and happiness after due consultation with 
your mother, I feel disposed to advance 
another step. Looking to the advantage 
of your early settlement in life, and with- 
out the faintest suspicion on her part, we 
have brought you in contact with a refined 
and highly accomplished young lady, 
whose character and family antecedents 
are only equalled by her beauty and grace. 

“Your mother and I have noted with 
great satisfaction the growing cordiality 
which has sprung up between you, and it 
is our desire and hope that this intimacy 
will in time ripen into a life attachment, 
which would, I am convinced, prove a 
blessing to you both. 

4 ‘Under such circumstances it would seem 
eminently proper that I should advise that 
any fanciful or romantic relations which 
you may have formed, and which would 
mar the plan proposed, be promptly and 
permanently dissolved. 

“But, father, whilst fully appreciating 
your thoughtfulness and generosity in my 


19 


RETRIBUTION. 


behalf, was it altogether wise and con- 
siderate to have matured plans involving 
so serious an issue, without bestowing on 
me, at least a part of your confidence?” 

“Are you quite sure, my son, that the 
position you yourself may have taken, 
warrants an appeal or even the mention of 
a personal confidence. Had you pursued a 
different course, is it not probable that it 
would have eventuated in a far different 
state of affairs?” 

“It was far from my intention, father, 
to withhold from you permanently, any 
confidence relating to a subject of so de- 
licate a nature ; but feeling that there might 
be some obstacle which would unfairly 
present itself in opposition to the fulfill- 
ment of my desires, such confidence was 
only delayed in hope that conditions which 
might arise would be more propitious. I 
owe you, father, my love, my respect and 
my reverence, and should the world give 
me honor or fame, I would gladly lay them 
at your feet. I surely owe you a cheerful 
obedience ; but are there not conditions un- 
der which you would not require it? 


20 


RETRIBUTION. 


“There are, as you know, peculiar affini- 
ties originated by nature in the attraction 
of one soul for another which are not so 
readily controlled by our will ; feelings 
which are not merchantable, which natur- 
ally resist compulsion, as would the eagle 
the compulsatory building of her nest upon 
the level plain. 

“My affections have been unalterably 
bestowed on an object I believe worthy of 
them. To recall my plighted faith would 
be a violation of honor. To falsely barter 
my allegiance, or to transfer it to another, 
would be still baser mockery, and worthy 
of the basest of hypocrites.” 

“Then I understand you, sir, to reject 
my proposal, and to refuse to sever a clan- 
destine association, contracted without the 
knowledge or advice of your parents, one 
which I have received information of 
but lately, and through an unwilling source, 
but which, if continued, would prove utterly 
obnoxious, not only to your mother and 
myself, but to our entire family connec- 
tions.” 

“Do not speak thus, my father. You 


21 


RETRIBUTION. 


could not say this were you personally 
acquainted with the object of my affections, 
who is in herself, despite old family feuds, 
most unobjectionable, and in character as 
lovely as in form and feature.” 

“Of one fact I am fully satisfied, Robert, 
that you have been carried awa y by a fatal 
beauty, without pausing to reflect on the 
result of a course which would prove so 
odious as a voluntary union of the blood of 
the Janvier family with that of your 
mother. I would be both false to myself 
and unfair to you, did I not assume a posi- 
tion of antagonism to so unfortunate an 
entanglement.” 

“But let me prove, father — .” 

“It is unnecessary, sir; circumstances of 
the past have already proved overmuch in 
that direction ; certainly more than with 
my consent, an opportunity of proving, 
will ever be afforded in the future. I have 
done, but have only to say in conclusion 
that I shall expect this odious connection 
to be broken off at once; this, in due 
respect to your own happiness andmyfam* 
ily honor. Should you not acquiesce in 


22 


RETRIBUTION. 


my demand, it will be tinder the pain and 
at the peril of a severance of our nearest 
and most affectionate relations.” 

i ‘Father, I think your decision is too 
hasty. Your judgment too harsh.” 

These latter words Mr. Gordon had not 
heard. The state of mental irritation to 
which the conversation had given rise had 
become so intolerable to him as to forbid 
its continuance unless at the risk of an 
outbreak of irrationality, which would in 
a more marked degree have been detri- 
mental to the welfare of both father and 
son. 

To widen the breach which had been 
opened between them, it unfortunately 
happened that on the afternoon of the 
same day, as Mr. and Mrs. Gordon and 
Evelyn De Ruyeter, their lovely guest, were 
returning from a drive ; in passing a retired 
cottage in the suburbs of the city, occupied 
by the Janviers, Robert had been recognized 
on the steps of the portico and in the affec- 
tionate attitude of leave taking from his 
inamorata. It happened too, that Robert 
had caught sight of the family equipage 


23 


RETRIBUTION. 


and its occupants, and in the surprise of 
the moment had doffed his hat to them. 

To Mrs. Gordon the shock of this unde- 
sirable recognition was most violent and 
intolerable. By the father it was accepted, 
as under the circumstances, only given in a 
spirit of disrespect for and defiance of par- 
ental council and authority. 

As Miss De Ruyeter turned to ask the 
name of this beautiful cottage, she noted 
that an ashy paleness had diffused itself 
over the countenance of her host, and fore- 
bore to press her question further. On 
Robert’s return to his home at a late hour 
of the evening, the scene between himself 
and his father had been one in its details, 
not healthful to relate. 

It should be said, however, in justice to 
the former, that the intemperate conclu- 
sions reached by the latter in the alterca- 
tion which had taken place, were founded 
on false premises. It had not for a 
moment been the intention of the son to 
defy the parental authority or in any man- 
ner to place himself in a position to forfeit 
further the respect of the father. Had an 


21 


BETRIBUTION. 


opportunity occurred he would have 
explained candidly his present position. 

His visit to Helen Janvier, his betrothed, 
had been only one which under the circum- 
stances of the case, he had deemed specially 
advisable, and through which he hoped 
some course of proceeding might be devised, 
by which old family wounds could be 
healed, long standing estrangements recon- 
ciled, and the obstacles to his union with 
Helen, removed. 

In the altercation to which we have 
referred, the demands of the father had 
been of so imperious a nature and in tone 
so harsh, as to arouse resentment and pro- 
voke intemperate response on the part of 
the son, and finally a positive refusal to 
comply with his unreasonable demands. 
So father and son had parted in anger. 

Here presented itself the opportunity for 
the interposition of the mother’s influence, 
but Mrs. Gordon’s physicial constitution, 
which was feeble, had been so shocked by 
recent developments and occurrences that 
her nervous prostration totally unfitted her 
for the task. 


25 


RETRIBUTION. 


Robert, dejected, broken in spirit, felt 
constrained, although with deep re- 
luctance, to turn his back upon the home 
of his childhood, a home of affluence and 
ease ; and alone, yet he hoped not alone, to 
seek through independent channels the 
solution of the yet unsolved problem of a 
successful life. 

It proved, however, a task far more 
difficult than he expected, to persuade 
Helen Janvier to consent to a union in op- 
position to the will of his parents. An im- 
portunate love, however, overcomes the most 
serious obstacles, and Helen’s consent was 
at last gained. 

After the marriage ceremony, quietly 
performed in the retired chapel situated 
near Helen’s residence, with a few thousand 
dollars inherited from a deceased uncle in 
his pocket, with a heavy load on his heart 
and an intense yearning for the blessing 
of his parents from whom he still remained 
estranged, our young hero turned his re- 
luctant steps westward. 

With the strong tide of emigration then 
settling in that direction, he finally became 


26 


RETRIBUTION. 


comfortably settled on the banks of the 
Little Blue River in the territory of Kansas, 
where we have lately made his ac- 
quaintance. 


27 


CHAPTER IV. 


Beautiful May ! Fragrant May ! With 
its burden of blossoms, its balmy breezes, 
whispering among the tender cotton-wood 
sheen ; its jubilant streamlets as, released 
from their winter fetters, they go bounding 
away on their springtide mission. 

Beautiful May ! with its emerald carpet 
spreading far and wide over valley and hill 
and undulating prairie, had come at last, 
extending her wooing arms to the impatient 
emigrants, looking forward with longing 
to the meeting at their central rendezvous, 
from which with his enthusiastic com- 
panions, Robert Gordon, Jr., too would 
take up his projected journey further west- 
ward. 

Wagons loaded with household goods, 
commissary supplies, farming utensils, 
arms and ammunition, men on horsback, on 
foot, herds of stock and cattle, came 
streaming in from all points of the com- 


28 


RETRIBUTION. 


pass to the camping ground agreed upon, 
where all was energy and activity in pre- 
paration for an early movement. 

Among the foremost on the ground ap- 
peared Robert Gordon, seated on a tough 
Canadian pony, riding beside a large com- 
fortable wagon, drawn by four stalwart 
oxen, and from the front of which were 
peering a smiling mother and her lovely 
young child. 

Helen Gordon had shed tears not a few, 
on leaving the homestead of their own 
carving, in which she and her husband had 
passed so many happy hours. 

Robert Gordon, as he had ridden away 
from it cast many lingering looks behind 
him ; for how many days he asked him- 
self, happier than those spent there, were 
to be their certain portion in the new home 
to be established in the wilderness beyond 
the far off mountains. 

Morning had broken and the gorgeous 
sun, like a glory, was rising over the far 
sweeping prairies, as over the bosom of a 
broad sea. Captain Gordon, for such was 
the title with which his comrades of the 


29 


RETRIBUTION. 


train had honored him, had risen early 
that he might sniff the first breath of morn 
and catch the early note of the piping 
plover, as tripping over the green sward, 
mate responded to mate. 

Little Rob was, however, ahead of him, 
being found in front of the tent door 
strutting pompously like a sentinel up and 
down and examining a wooden pistol just 
taken from his belt. His piping notes fell 
more acceptably on the wanderer’s ear 
than did the whistling of the joyous prairie 
bird. 

“Good morning, papa, there must have 
been a wolf around last night, I heard 
Pont growl more than once. If a wolf was 
to come to eat up mama and you, he would 
soon be a dead wolf ; see papa, I am all 
ready for him.” 

“Mama and you!” His heart was not 
freed of its soreness yet. The sensitive- 
ness of that sore seemed to have increased 
rather than diminished. There was another 
and a far away mama whose happiness had 
been, and he believed still remained indis- 
solubly united with his own. Yet no 


30 


RETRIBUTION. 


gentle longed for word of chiding had 
ever come to him from her, to woo him 
back to a manifestation of the undying al- 
legiance he held and owed to her. 

Would it ever remain thus? Would the 
yearned for bugle recall never be sounded? 

“No wolf, Rob, but in the early part of 
the night our own camp was passed by a 
troop of Uncle Sam’s soldiers who have 
camped just beyond us. Don’t you see 
their white tents over yonder?” 

“Take me to see them close, papa; I 
would like to be a soldier too, and have a 
true sword and gun, and march this way;” 
— this, as he was now strutting to and fro. 

Another old wound had been opened. 
But the wanderer from home, was, through 
his hardships, striving to learn the lesson 
of living in the present, and of fighting 
against that depression of mind and body 
consequent on lingering too long and 
sorrowfully over the errors of a possibly 
irremediable past. 

“It is too late for to-day, Rob. The 
troops are already striking their tents. We 
may have abetter opportunity to-morrow.” 


31 


RETRIBUTION. 


“Where are the troops going, Captain?” 
asked one of the train men. “There 
seems to he quite a numerous body of 
them.” 

“I saw one of the officers last night, 
Hazzard, who informed me that there was 
a movement on hand fora concentration of 
forces against the Cheyenne and Kiowa 
Indians, who after having perpetrated the 
horrible train massacre of the previous 
summer, were reported to be now on the 
war path.” 

“Where are these Indians supposed to be 
at present, Captain?” 

“Somewhere, I am told, on the Republi- 
can River, and that it is the object of the 
troops to get between them and the moun- 
tains, and so cut off their retreat west- 
ward.” 

“Then the troops will be all the time 
between us and the hostiles? I am glad 
to hear this, as their appearance has 
excited some little alarm among our fam- 
ilies, who feared lest the presence of the 
soldiers was an indication of some near 
danger threatening them.” 


32 


RETRIBUTION. 


“There is no present danger, Hazzard. 
Please assure the members of our train of 
the reliability of what I assert.” 


33 


CHAPTER V. 


The journey of the Arkansas and Mis- 
souri emigrants, necessarily a long and 
wearisome one, was meanwhile progressing 
steadily toward its accomplishment. 

The lovely prairies with their lucid 
streams and refreshing groves of cotton- 
wood trees, their endless expanse of tall 
sedgy grass, rolling rhythmically in grace- 
ful billows like the bosom of old ocean 
itself, soon melted away in the distance 
behind them. 

Now the vast boundless plains kept, day 
after day, looming up in their front, as if 
there was no limit to the far off horizon, 
anon darkened by herds of countless buffalo, 
as blockading the train they crossed the 
trail, descending from the higher mesas to 
their watering places along the borders of 
the turbid Platte. 

As day followed day, and march suc- 
ceeded march, the journey at the first 


34 


RETRIBUTION. 


€xhilarating because of novelty and event- 
fulness, now became irksome and monoto- 
nous. It was true that with the disap- 
pearance of their nesting-ground had been 
left behind the animating twirl of the 
prairie plover ; but the little ones of the 
train, boys and girls, twenty-five or thirty 
in number, as they gamboled happily along 
the wayside, now chasing the tame young 
hares, pelting with pebbles the surprised 
and stately sage fowl, or stopping to gather 
up the orange-throated troopials, as heed- 
less of the voyagers they were struck down 
by a stroke of the whip or ever ready ram- 
rod, inspired the weary travelers with new 
zest for the trials of the road. 

Fort Kearney had been passed. The 
difficult and oft dangerous ford of the 
South Platte had been struggled through. 
The historic battle-field of the Ogalallah 
Sioux was left behind them. From the 
occasional Pawnee or Sioux who had 
straggled into their camp, they had listened 
to the story of the Pawnees’ defense of 
Court House Rock — the huge castellated 
structure, looming up in the distance to 


35 


RETRIBUTION. 


the southward, — or to that of the massacre 
of the Grattan party near Fort Laramie, 
which post they were now approaching 
and where they would be separated from 
the military guard, which would from that 
point move directly southward. The train, 
whose progress we have been following, was 
unusually large for an emigrant train, and 
by the trading posts which it had passed 
was considered an unusually rich one. It 
was well provided with superior stock, 
and was composed of at least forty fam- 
ilies. 

Captain Gordon, with whose history they 
were unacquainted, but whose bearing and 
appearance clearly indicated him as a mil- 
itary man, had become quite popular among 
his fellows, and was looked up to as the 
chief director of the train. 

In case of accident he was the first to be 
summoned, and the first to set the example 
of voluntary assistance. It was he who 
selected the daily camping ground and who 
regulated the hours for the day’s travel. It 
was usually his unerring shot which would 
bring down the straggling buffalo, or strike 


36 


RETRIBUTION. 


the venturesome antelope, as vidette-like 
it dashed up to inspect the passing train. 
It was his little boy, Rob, who was ever 
petted by the emigrants as he trotted along 
beside the wagons, or was lifted up into 
the saddle by the train captain. The 
voice of the little ‘ ‘piping plover,” as the 
train men called him, was now making 
itself heard. 

4 ‘Run quick, papa! Pont has pointed 
one of the ugliest birds I ever saw.” Gor- 
don was not quick enough to prevent the 
deadly fang of the rattlesnake from pene- 
trating poor Pont’s face, which had inter- 
posed itself between the boy and danger, 
but still in time to deal the reptile a mortal 
blow ere he had time to escape to his den 
amid the greasewood undergrowth. 

“Pont would let himself be killed for me, 
papa. Please don’t let Pont die.” 

Captain Gordon was overjoyed at suc- 
ceeding in saving the brave dog’s life, by 
the prompt use of liquid ammonia, a bottle 
of which he always carried in his hunting 
jacket or saddle pouch. 

Mrs. Gordon was now questioning him: 


37 


RETRIBUTION. 


“Will there be much danger, Robert, 
after we have passed Fort Laramie?” 

“No, Helen,” he replied, also address- 
ing himself to the group of emigrants 
gathered around her, as they were at last 
pitching their tents under the sheltering 
guns of the fort. “Laramie passed, our 
dangers are about over. No bands of 
hostiles are known to infest our route 
beyond this point. We shall as usual 
preserve our discipline and remain upon 
our guard; but large bodies of troops now 
intervene between us and the warring 
tribes, so that there need not be the 
slightest alarm.” 


38 


CHAPTER VI. 


Onward ! Onward ! Onward ! this was 
the watchword of our bold pioneers of 
progress, as pushing forward they carried 
with them to a virgin soil, the germs of a 
new civilization. 

We have watched them with interest, as 
leaving behind them the crowded cohorts 
of organized society, they pushed forward 
with the toil sweat of brawn and the tena- 
cious resolution of brain, to the achievement 
of new victories in the redemption of the 
western wilderness. 

It was not with the steam-harnessed 
appliances of the present day that these 
representatives of the indomitable pluck 
and perseverance of the earlier pioneers, 
were attempting to define more clearly that 
indistinct and almost interminable trail 
winding in and out between the mountain 
chains, and through the mountain passes, 
and stretching from the banks of the 


39 


RETRIBUTION. 


Mississippi to the grassy slopes beyond the 
Nevadas. 

It was with the slow measured methods 
of our forefathers; the wearisome, plodding, 
step by step, pace of the western ox-team ; 
a method fruitful in the development of 
patience and endurance and in testing them 
to their extreme limit. 

We dare not test the patience of those 
interested in our narrative by lingering 
too long w T ith our voyagers, as now leaving 
behind them the vast plain-area, they 
plunge into the heart of the stupendous 
mountain system of the interior continent. 
We can but glance at them in their cosy 
camps at La Prele, La Bonte and Force 
Boise ; or as day after day they follow the 
serpentine course of the Sweetwater, be- 
tween the ragged Rattle Snake Range on 
the one side and the Sweetwater Range on 
the other. We leave them with other 
passers, to record their names on the native 
granite register of Independence Rock ; or 
as their panting oxen have reached the 
notorious summit of the South Pass, we 
pause with them to catch sight of bold 


40 


RETRIBUTION. 


Fremonts Peak, towering skyward far off 
in the northwest. 

Having left Fort Bridger behind and 
reached the Great Divide, between the 
waters of the Colorado and the Great 
Basin, they have but to toil through the 
rocky boulder beds of Echo Canon and the 
Weber, where climbing still more precipi- 
tous heights they gaze down upon the far- 
famed city of the Mormon Saints. Here, 
their mission calling for no delay, they have 
descended into the valley of the Great Salt 
Lake, have crossed the waters of the slug- 
gish Jordan and pitched their camp within 
the borders of the land to which the self- 
chosen People of God have daringly laid an 
independent claim. 

To man and beast the protracted journey 
has been burdensome in the extreme. The 
emigrants need and will enjoy the holy 
calm and refreshing quietude of a restful 
Sabbath day. 

The jaded ox beside the ox-herd grim, 

Wasted and wan, toiled-strained in every 
limb ; 

Who o’er the plain for many a lengthening 
league, 


41 


RETRIBUTION. 


Has staggered on through drought and dire 
fatigue ; 

Urged onward by the whacker’s shout and 
goad, 

Groaning beneath the ever growing load; 

By the fair mirage of the unending plain, 
Lured on, then undeceived, yet mocked again; 
The distant goal once gained, the summit 
reached, 

With eyes distended and with neck out 
stretched, 

As on the great divide’s fir bristling crest, 
With dripping flank, he panting halts to rest, 
Now feasts his vision on the enchanting view, 
Of liquid life, bathed in ethereal blue. 

In basin broad hemmed in by mountain high 
Lake Utah’s limpid waters luring lie, 

With winsome face in sunshine glad revealed, 
Or heaving breast ’mid fleecy mists concealed. 
In reedy lagoons where its head shores meet, 
The black-tail deer secures a safe retreat. 

At hush of eve, its winding shores along, 

Vast flocks of wild fowl fearlessly throng. 
The speckled trout o’er its blue bottom play, 
Clear as the sky in fair mid-summer day ; 
Whilst on its bosom, clad in silvery light, 

The snowy sea-gull steers its dreamy flight. 

Soft summer showers have ruffled the 
placid bosom of the lovely inland sea. 
Around the fir belted form of triple-peaked 
Nebo, a majestic monarch among the proud 
lords of the Wahsatch, fleecv clouds float- 
ing up from the lake’s pulsing bosom are 
twining their graceful folds. 


42 


RETRIBUTION. 


Circled with snow wreaths, his noble 
brow gleams in the sunshine like a gorgeous 
coronal, whilst above his venerable head 
floats a rich canopy of royal purple. 

Now as the great god of day spreads 
wide his benevolent arms, folds back the 
cloudy curtain and bursts in full robed 
splendor on the scene, all seems transformed 
into one blending glory of glass transpar- 
ent, of burnished silver and glittering gold. 

The sun was now sinking gloriously in 
the west, and again the melodious voice of 
the little “Piping Plover” was recognized 
by his parents as he called out with ear- 
nestness : “Come quick, for your tent, 
mama. Tell papa to trumpet the train. 
The gold gates of the city up in the skies, 
you read me about in God’s good book, are 
open wide. Come quick, mama, and we 
will all go in.” 

Innocent prattler ! Tender-aged seer ! 
Ominous prophesy ! Were the gates indeed 
ajar? 


43 


CHAPTER VII. 


Westward ho ! Westward ho! The day 
dawned brightly, the air was crisp and 
clear, and the voyagers seemd jubilant. 
Refreshed and revived by the acceptable 
bivouac, all were at their posts and in 
readiness to resume the toilsome march. 

The road now lay along the table lands 
at the base of the Wahsatch Range, and 
through the mud-walled settlements of 
Nephi, Springfield, Provo and Goshen, 
and yet further westward through the 
weird valley of the Sevier and Little Salt 
Lake, and by the way of Parowan, Beaver 
and Cedar and Filmore cities, until at last 
they reached the rim of the Great Basin of 
the Rockies, and pitched their camp, 
where from a new “Pisgah” they could 
look down on their “Promised Land.” 

As they passed through the Mormon set- 
tlements, their well provided train and valu- 
able stock, later on offered for sale in Salt 


44 


RETRIBUTION. 


Lake City as “property taked in the siege 
of Sebastopol,” had been much noticed, 
and covetous eyes cast upon them as being 
just such as were then needed by the Mor- 
mon brotherhood. 

The circulating organ of the church had 
said that when the Israelites passed through 
the borders of their enemies, they had 
asked permission to do so, but that now 
accursed bodies of rampant heretics dared 
to travel through the Chosen Land of the 
saints, without petitioning to do so, or 
even reverently taking off their shoes, 
whilst treading on holy ground. 

Public feeling had been recently stirred 
up on the subject of the so called martyrdom 
of one Joseph Smith, accepted as a Mormon 
prophet, and who had lost his life as caught 
in the act of running off with another man’s 
wife. 

It was affirmed that a portion of the 
emigrant train were Arkansians and doubt- 
less to some extent responsible for Smith’s 
death. It was widely rumored among the 
Mormons that their leader, Brigham Young, 
had openly stated in the Tabernacle that 


45 


RETRIBUTION. 


as Governor and Indian Agent, he had up 
to this time protected emigrants whilst on 
their way through the Territory, but that 
he would now turn the Indians loose upon 
them. 

It was affirmed that after the emigrants 
had left Cedar City, a council w r as called 
by one Bishop Higbie, and attended by 
him and President J. C. Haight, and Bish- 
op John D. Lee, of Harmony, and that in 
that Council it was stated that a command 
had been received from Salt Lake City to 
follow and attack those cursed Gentiles, 
and to let the arrows of the Almighty drink 
their blood ; and that a body of sixty men 
had been accordingly raised, and rein- 
forced by a band of Indians. 

Before reaching their present encamp- 
ment, an incident occurred which it is 
desirable to refer to, in explanation of the 
following conversation which had taken 
place in the camp of the emigrants when 
near Nephi. 

“Shall we employ this man, Captain 
Gordon ? n 

“Who is he, John, and what kind of 


46 


RETRIBUTION. 


employment is he looking for, and why 
does he come to us?” 

“He claims, Captain, to he, and seems 
familiar with the whole territory, in which 
he is often employed as a guide.” 

‘ ‘Is he well posted as to the good camp- 
ing places further southward?” 

“I understand he is.” 

“Then employ him for a week if the 
compensation asked for is fair.” 

The man so employed made himself 
generally useful in the camp. He was 
found to have all the information, and in 
several cases rendered efficient service in 
obtaining certain kinds of supplies from 
the Mormons, who as a rule seemed surly, 
uncommunicative, and at times insulting. 
He seemed, however, to pry into every 
private affair of the camp and to 
familiarize himself with all the details of 
its hours and duties. 

When camping at Parowan, having bor- 
rowed from one of the team drivers about 
the amount of his wages, he suddenly disap- 
peared and was not heard of until on a most 
serious occasion to be referred to later on. 


47 


CHAPTER VIII. 


On the evening of September the ninth,, 
eighteen hundred and fifty-seven, at a 
point on the route between Salt Lake City 
and Los Angeles, three hundred miles from 
the former place, about thirty-five mile& 
below Cedar City, eighteen miles from 
Harmony, and at a spot known as the 
Mountain Meadows, a part of a mesa five 
miles in length and one mile in width em- 
braced in the Great Divide, between the 
waters of the Great Basin and the 
Colorado, the train of emigrants lay en- 
camped. 

The larger extent of its journey and the 
bulk of its hardships were ostensibly over- 
come. On the morrow the descent of some 
thousands of feet was to be made down to 
the valley of the Santa Clara. 

In anticipation of the happy surprises 
supposed to be awaiting them, and of the 
profits to be derived from their venture, 


48 


RETRIBUTION. 


this special evening was set apart as one 
of joy and conviviality. 

The usual duties of the camp having 
been completed by sunset, the occupants of 
the many wagons issuing from their close 
quarters wer ^gathered around their camp- 
fires in the enjoyment of their evening 
meal, and congratulating one another on 
being about to leave the land of the 
“Saints,” by whom their reception had been 
by no means a hospitable one, and who had 
openly expressed themselves as being un- 
friendly to them, and hostile to the U. S. 
Government of which they were subjects. 

All care was now laid aside. As the 
evening progressed, here and there a violin 
made its appe trance from beneath the 
calash-bows of the old prairie-schooners, 
and as its strings were strung to the en- 
livening tune of the Arkansas Traveler or 
some other favorite air, up would bounce 
a pair of elastic heels, and amid the hilari- 
ous shouts of young and old, a country jig 
would add its attractions to the entertain- 
ment of the evening. 

“I say, Pete Harkins,” spoke out a tall 


49 


RETRIBUTION. 


raw-boned fellow as he sat cross-kneed be- 
fore the fire, for even at that time of the 
year, at that elevation, water when left in 
their tin basins would freeze at night, 

‘ ‘give us that last fling of yourn, executed 
on the barn floor at old Josh Groves, when 
Samanthy Sweet and Tom Cracker ’fessed 
to their engagement and gave us a bid to 
the wedding.” 

4 ‘Seeing it’s your private requisition, 
Jake, and that I’ve just added a little 
jint-ile to these creaky timbers, I reckon 
I’ll record to your wishes. So here goes 
the Ox-Cart-Jig with variations by the 
Rocky Mountain Kangaroo.” 

Pete had hardly finished amid the 
vociferous applause of the happy specta- 
tors, when the demand became general for 
a song. 

Gill Piper, who usually passed under the 
name of Boots, because being camp guard 
No. 1 he generally slept in that article, 
called out: “Lead off, Jerry, with that old 
favorite air of yours, ‘Pass around the hoe 
cake, take down the old cracked gourd.’ ” 
And as the assembly joined in the familiar 


50 


RETRIBUTION. 


chorus, 4 ‘We are going home in the morn- 
ing, jest on to the break of day, ” the welkin 
was made fairly to ring. 

The emigrants felt as though they were 
again in their old homesteads, and the 
autumnal husking-match again in full 
swing. 

Meanwhile the numerous little ones were 
making the best of their unusual holiday. 
As they gathered around the jolly fiddler, 
and he struck up the Ashburton Reel, 
away they would go whirling like so many 
coots in a mill pond. 

Captain and Mrs. Gordon had mingled 
for a time socially with their companions 
of the road, some of whom though rough 
in the exterior and unpolished in manners, 
and perhaps ungrammatical in speech, 
Gordon had perceived to be men of noble 
hearts and willing hands ; daily intercourse 
with whom had given him new and more 
healthy ideas of real worth in his fellows. 

With some more prominent and more 
highly educated members of the train he 
had now withdrawn to the circle of his 
own camp fire, and sat discussing with 


51 


RETRIBUTION. 


them subjects vital to their future prosper- 
ity. 

‘ ‘Did you see, Gordon, the report of 
Brigham Young’s last sermon in the Taber- 
nacle? It is said he poured out the bitter- 
est vials of his wrath on the United States 
Government, and advised that the passage 
of emigrants through the territory of the 
Saints should be stopped. Also that the 
Danites or Destroying Angels, as they are 
called, an organized body of bandits at his 
beck and call and said to act under his 
secret orders, should be vested with full 
authority ‘to send every Gentile enemy of 
the Church to hell, and across lots’.” 

“Yes, Fletcher, I did hear of some such 
braggadocio, doubtless uttered to put a 
little backbone into his shaky administra- 
tion, and to bolster up the waning courage 
of his followers. He has doubtless been 
informed that a military expedition is 
being organized, and is probably on its 
way to the territory, for the purpose of 
bringing him to his senses ; and to my mind 
the sooner this is done the better.” 

“Do you really think, Captain, that our 


52 


RETRIBUTION. 


train has been in any danger in passing 
through the territory?” 

“I have apprehended none, Fletcher. I 
do not think that the authorities would 
make themselves so openly offensive to the 
United States Government by such an overt 
act as attacking a large emigrant train. 
Still as you are aware, I have been careful 
to prevent any source of irritation or any 
cause of offense being given by our people. 
All said, however, I shall be heartily glad 
to get beyond the pale of their influence.” 

“Kiss me good-night, papa. I’m going 
to bed now. I want to be up early to-mor- 
row, and when we get to the other camp, I 
want to write a letter to my grandpa, just 
like Jimmy Dunlap did to his grandpa 
to-day. I have a grandpa, haven’t I, papa? 
Mama didn’t say so. She just nodded her 
head, but that always means yes.” 

“We’ll see about it, Rob, when to-mor- 
row comes. Get to bed now, my boy, and 
go to sleep right away, so you will be up 
bright and early in the morning.” 

And the very subject of “Grandpa” was 
the subject of a long and earnest conversa- 


53 


RETRIBUTION. 


tion between Captain Gordon and his wife 
ere they fell asleep that night. 

“The more I have thought over the sub- 
ject, Robert, the better I am convinced that 
the whole difficulty could have been avoided 
by a little less haste and temper, both on 
your part and on that of your father. If 
you had not been so precipitate in your 
action, I feel convinced that his anger 
would soon have passed away. I am sure 
that an advance to a reconciliation should 
not be awaited for from him, but should 
come from you. I really think that this 
course of action is proper in justice to 
yourself, your parents, and your boy. Such 
action, I fear, has already been delayed too 
long.” 

“Your counsel, Helen, comes to me like 
the voice of an angel. I know I am both 
proud and obstinate, and in respect to my 
manliness, I should long ago have con- 
quered that unworthy spirit which ever 
sprang up to stifle any inward monition as 
to what was my duty. But since I have 
become a father myself, and have learned 
to appreciate fully all the significance of 


54 


RETRIBUTION. 


that relation, there has arisen within me 
an irrepressible longing for some opportu- 
nity which would open the door to a recon- 
ciliation. The request of our dear little 
boy to-night, to be permitted to write to 
his grandfather, came to me like a warning 
from the dead. I felt too full of emotion 
for utterance, when I remembered that I 
had never even mentioned to him his grand- 
fathers name.” 

“I am sure then, Robert, that you will 
not defer writing to him another day. 
When we shall have reached our encamp- 
ment on the Santa Clara River to-morrow 
night, this letter with that of our little 
Robert, will be our first care. I am satis- 
fied that by so doing, your mind will be 
relieved of one oppressive burden which is 
in secret wearing away your powers.*’ 

Then came back to Captain and Mrs. 
Gordon the oft recurring thought, that in 
these long years of separation from home, 
not only had no direct word ever been 
received from Robert’s parents, but even 
in Helen’s correspondence with her aunt, 
who had long ago removed to the far south, 


55 


RETRIBUTION. 


no mention had ever been made of the 
Gordons. Was it possible that they were 
dead? The true facts of the case were 
these. 

Mr. and Mrs. Gordon had both suffered 
severely on account of their separation 
from their only child, but were every day 
looking for his voluntary return to them. 
The effect of that separation on Mrs. Gor- 
don had been so depressing as to seriously 
impair her health, and to demand a change 
of climate and scenery. A trip to the 
Continent had accordingly been recom- 
mended and effected. It was while sojourn- 
ing in southern France, that the father had 
received a copy of a marked New York 
daily, giving him the shocking intelligence 
that in a hostile collision on the Kansas 
border between the Kansas settlers and the 
invading Missourians, one Captain Gordon, 
originally of New York, had been fatally 
wounded, surviving only a few hours. 

It was long ere he could make up his 
mind to communicate this painful informa- 
tion to his wife. And it was finally done, 
only after every effort had been made, but 


56 


RETRIBUTION. 


without success, to learn if either wife or 
child had survived his son. It was finally 
intimated that if having a wife, she had 
removed east, and it was not believed that 
there had been any issue. 


57 


CHAPTER IX. 

With the first appearance of dawn on the 
morning of September the tenth, the 
emigrant train which lay encamped at the 
Mountain Meadows, was alive with prepara- 
tion for an early movement. 

The cheerful intercourse and lively 
festivities of the previous evening had im- 
parted to its members new zest for the 
duties of the road. 

Between the hours of daylight and sun- 
rise, as they were gathered around their 
camp fires partaking of their morning meal, 
and offering and receiving congratulations 
as to an early and hopeful termination of 
their journey, in a moment and without 
warning was heard from all directions the 
sharp crack of the rifle, and as the fatal 
missiles came whistling around them, and 
anon, one of the cherished companions, 
male or female, fell under the well directed 


58 


RETRIBUTION. 


fire of the foe, their consternation was in- 
describable. 

Amid the shrieks of women and cries of 
the children, and the panic created among 
the few animals as yet brought into the 
camp, it was some little time before the 
leaders themselves could fully appreciate 
the situation. 

By this time at least fifteen of the com- 
pany had been either killed or wounded. 

Cries of “Captain Gordon! Captain 
Gordon!” were heard on every side. 

Promptly came the response: “Women 
and children to the wagons. Let them lie 
low in the w T agon bodies for shelter. 
Fletcher, select twenty of our best marks- 
men to return a deliberate and sure fire, 
wherever a head of the concealed foe ap- 
pears. 

“Dunlap, organize a band of six men to 
collect the wounded under the shelter of 
one of our heavier wagons. I, myself, will 
see promptly to the narrowing of our 
cordon, so that the line of our defense will 
be more complete.” 

Thus spoke the brave captain of the 


59 


RETRIBUTION. 


train, as with a wounded arm hanging at 
his side, he moved from place to place, en- 
couraging his men and pacifying the 
women. 

“Captain! the Redskins seem to have 
the advantage of us. Had we not better 
send to the settlements for help ?” 

“No, Taggitt, it would be useless. We 
are completely surrounded. Furthermore 
no help is to be expected from that quarter. 
The head I have been watching, as it oc- 
casionally shows itself above yon loop-holed 
fortification on the top of an adjacent hill, 
belongs to a man as white as yourself. I 
too have seen reinforcements coming to 
them in wagons. Savages have no wagons. 
Our assailants are the Mormons themselves. 
A messenger will, however, be dispatched 
southward as soon after nightfall as con- 
ditions will permit.” 

“Good Heavens! Captain, is what you 
have told me possible? Then our case is 
a critical one, and we must make up our 
minds to die fighting like men.” 

And as he spoke the captain’s assertions 
were verified by the return of one of the 


60 


RETRIBUTION. 


herders, who came running into the camp 
with blood streaming from several wounds, 
and shouting: 1 ‘The Mormons are upon 
us !” 

The situation was indeed a most des- 
perate one. 

Near the camp and running southward, 
was a large ravine in which was situated, 
some hundred or two yards distant, a 
spring of good water. This spring was 
commanded by the fire of the Mormons who 
held possession of the hilltops all around 
it, and especially of a large mound to the 
westward, upon which had been erected 
during the night previous to the attack, 
stone defences, loop-holed for rifles, from 
which a deadly fire was kept up on the 
besieged. The mortality incident to the 
exposure necessitated in the procuring of 
water and preparation of food, was of 
course great. 

Night at last threw its dark and dreary 
mantle over this mournful tragedy. This 
night of pain and terror was one of many 
nights of still greater horrors and suffer- 
ings, and the following day was to be one 


61 


RETRIBUTION. 


of many days with experiences more bitter 
than its fellow. 

“Can I do anything for you, Captain 
Gordon? You have doubtless suffered 
much during the day.” 

“Nothing, George. My wound is only a 
flesh wound, but it has bled profusely and 
is causing some feeling of exhaustion. 
Loosen, please, this handkerchief, with 
which by the aid of a pebble, I have made 
a tourniquet. Its pressure had been intol- 
erable. I must have a brief rest, but our 
vigilance must be doubled. I am sure 
that the savages who for a time were per- 
suaded to assist our brutal foes, and whom 
I saw returning to the hills, have again 
been coaxed down, and their return may 
mean a night assault. 

“Johnson, do me a special favor in coaxing 
that little girl away from the corpse of her 
father. It is indeed a heart-rending spec- 
tacle, but the piteous wailing of the poor 
wife is in itself too demoralizing to our 
men. When you have succeeded in doing 
this, have a fatigue party complete the 
burial of our dead.” 


62 


RETRIBUTION. 


“Where shall the graves be dug, Cap- 
tain?” 

“As close as possible to the wheels of 
the wagons, but without undermining 
them. Heap the earth high, Johnson, so 
that it may serve as an additional bar- 
ricade. We shall continue to make our de- 
fense over the resting places of our brave 
comrades. 

“Eckhart, call for water volunteers for 
service at eleven o’clock. If a sufficient 
supply has not been obtained by twelve M., 
awaken me and I will myself volunteer.” 

“Captain, Thompson’s horse, the last 
one remaining, was by your order slaugh- 
tered at nightfall. What disposition shall 
be made of it?” 

“Bury the offal deep in the center of the 
circle, and distribute the rations about half 
an hour before dawn. See that there is 
not over much salt used. It produces a 
most intolerable thirst.” 

Now a little voice breaks out on the 
stillness of the night : 

“Come kiss me good night, papa. And 
hear me say my prayers : 


63 


RETRIBUTION. 


u ‘Now I lay me down to sleep 
I pray the Lord my soul to keep. 

If I should die ’ 

“Say them with me papa: 

u ‘before I wak e, 

I pray the Lord my soul to take.’ ” 

“God keep you my precious boy. Good- 
night, my love. I must sleep out here on the 
ground where I shall be more accessible in 
case of new danger. I have dispatched a 
messenger to the settlements southward, ask- 
ing for immediate help. We must trustfully 
await his return.” And from within the 
wagon bows there proceeded a deep, 
“Amen,” accompanied by one still fainter. 

Thus day by day, although continually de- 
creasing in numbers, this gallant Tittle band 
kept up the unequal fight. As in the gloom 
of the dark night, body after body wrapped 
only in its blanket, and without funeral 
service, was committed to its mother earth, 
no beacon star shone out to cheer their 
grieving comrades with brighter hopes for 
the morrow. Every hour the position was 
becoming more desperate. 

The morning of the seventh day arrived 
in its dreary turn, dawning brightly on a 


64 


RETRIBUTION. 


ghastly assemblage. A day with soft, 
balmy air and joyous sunshine; a day too 
bright, too serene to look down upon a 
scene so mockingly hideous. 

The scant ration of horse flesh and 
insufficient measure of water had been 
fairly doled out to each eager petitioner. 
For a larger quantity of the latter there 
had been urgent appeals, which should 
have touched a heart of stone, but the 
sternest military discipline had been neces- 
sarily imposed. On its strict observance 
might depend the common safety. 

The messenger must by this time have 
reached his destination ! Relief might be 
looked for at any moment ! 

Poor old Pont ! how wasted, how hag- 
gard ! Yet how affectionately he was 
licking his master’s face and hands, as he 
lay on the ground beside him ! 

In appreciation of his devotion to his boy, 
Gordon had given the dog the last drop of 
his own meager ration of water, which his 
own depleted blood was loudly demanding. 

But what meant the sudden commotion 
now visible in the camp? and which brought 


65 


RETRIBUTION. 


the pallid and peering faces of women and 
children to the fronts and backs of the wag- 
ons, while groups of men were seen assem- 
bling and apparently discussing some new 
feature of the situation? 

In the distance were seen approaching 
two covered wagons containing church dig- 
nitaries, and each drawn by two horses, 
the drivers of which, said to be Bishops J. 
D. Haight and John D. Lee, were weaving 
flags of truce. 

The effect on the men of the camp was 
one of marked surprise. On the women, 
that of timid and hesitant hope, which 
gave itself relief in copious outbursts of 
tears and hysterical sobs. 

On reaching the camp, three men appar- 
ently unarmed and still waving the white 
flag, dismounted from the wagons, and 
asked for a conference, which after a few 
moment’s consultation, was granted. 

The situation turned out to be more 
hopeless than had been supposed. 

“Your name is Gordon, I believe,” said 
one of the truce bearers, “and you are the 
leader of this train?” 


RETRIBUTION. 


“You are correct, sir, I am. May I ask 
your name, and as representing whom are 
you present?” 

“I decline to answer your question, 
Captain, but with the statement that my 
action is by the authority of those in whose 
hands you are hopelessly prisoners. By 
reading this paper, to which is attached 
your own signature, you will perceive that 
your messenger southward has been inter- 
cepted. You are further informed, and 
will be permitted to see for yourself, that 
your water supply has been cut off, and 
that a continued resistance on your part, 
would be only inhumanity to your com- 
pany.” 

“But I must ask, sir, for what reasons 
have these harmless emigrants, while pass- 
ing through Government Territory, been 
thus ruthlessly assailed?” 

“An answer to your question, Mr. Gor- 
don, is irrelevant to my mission. Yet I 
will tell you, that this territory, settled by 
others than Americans, is not the property 
of the United States Government. It has 
been determined b}^ those who do own it, 

67 


RETRIBUTION. 


that the unholy tread of the Gentile shall 
no longer trespass upon its sod. An 
example has been set in your case, which 
will in the future, deter all odious Gentiles 
from treading in your footsteps.” 

“I am to understand then, that this act 
is authorized by the Mormon Church?” 

“Say, sir, rather by the Mormon Gov- 
ernment, which will from this time forth, 
assert and hold its own without fear or 
favor. But all such talk is unnecessary to 
the occasion. I came to you in the inter- 
est of humanity, to offer you liberal terms 
of capitulation, the non-acceptance of 
which, would on your part be suicidal.” 

“Will you state those terms, sir?” 

* ‘That on surrender you will be disarmed, 
deprived of your property but given your 
personal liberty, and be required to leave 
the Mormon Territory without delay, under 
promise of never returning to it.” 

“Have you full authority and power for 
carrying out these stipulations?” 

“I have.” 

After a brief consultation with the sur- 
viving males, and an unsuccessful appeal 


68 


RETRIBUTION. 


for a certain number of side arms, and an 
equivalent amount of ammunition, the con- 
ditions offered were accepted, and the sur- 
render completed. 

On starting in an easterly direction, 
suspicions were first aroused among the 
emigrants, by the enforced separation of 
the men from the women and children of 
the train. The reason given them for this 
was, “the Mormon custom,” and for fur- 
ther convenience in the arrangements pro- 
vided for their transportation out of the 
territory. 

Hardly, however, had they proceeded a 
few miles when the company of Danites, or 
Destroying Angels,- so called because of 
their position, said to be authorized by the 
Church as police, or Border Butchers, and 
of whom recalcitrant Mormons stood in 
absolute terror, began to increase rapidly 
around them. 

But a short time elapsed when weapons 
were drawn and an indiscriminate massacre 
of the men was inaugurated, the first among 
them to fall being Captain Gordon himself, 
who with helpless arms extended upward, 


69 


RETRIBUTION. 


and in words of fiery eloquence, appealed 
to heaven for its righteous indignation on 
such a base violation of plighted faith. 

Shot and stabbed in a dozen places, he 
fe'l in his bloody tracks with eyes starting 
from their sockets, as their expiring gaze 
strained in the direction of the dear unpro- 
tected ones he was leaving behind him. 

Faithful old Pont was by his master’s 
side, and appreciating his need in this last 
extremity, sprang at the throat of one of 
the assassins and hung to it, till in the 
last throes of death, pierced through and 
through, he fell at his master’s feet. 

Not one man among the emigrants was 
at that time believed to have escaped to 
tell the tale of the massacre. The shrieks 
of the women and children, not too distant 
to comprehend that the assassination of 
their husbands and fathers was in progress, 
rent the desert air in vain. But a few 
hundreds yards further on, and the pas- 
sions of demons supplanted those of men. 

Again to be glutted in their taste for 
blood, the savages were called down from the 
mountains, that they might participate in 


70 


KETRIBUTION. 


the fiendish orgies which followed. Dis- 
robed, beaten, bruised, ear-rings and finger 
rings were bitten and cut from their ears 
and fingers, their persons brutally violated, 
brained with clubs, their throats cut from 
ear to ear, their naked bodies trampled 
upon like those of the men, were left un- 
clad, unburied on the open plain, abandoned 
to the debauching power of the elements, 
the appetites of the vultures, and the fangs 
of the ravenous wolves. 

In that large company of forty families, 
only were spared some of the very young- 
est of the children, believed to be too 
young to hold the dastardly transaction 
long in remembrance, but who brought up 
with principles, in the nostrils of purity 
fouler than the fumes of the bottomless pit, 
would, in a moral bondage worse than 
death, add by their numbers to the power 
of the Mormon Hierarchy. 


71 


CHAPTER X. 


One year later, and on the fifth day of 
the month of May, eighteen hundred and 
fifty- eight, there was observed on the scene 
of the events last narrated, a scattered com- 
pany of men in the undress uniform of 
United States soldiers, who moving quietly 
from spot to spot, were gathering up, 
scrutinizing and assorting, not as one 
might suppose specimens of the precious 
ores washed down from the adjacent 
mountains, nor yet the fossil remains of 
antedeluvian creations, but the actual re- 
mains of human beings, who like them- 
selves but one short year ago, were in the 
full possession of life and health and their 
fullest faculties. 

In the hands of one of these collectors 
could be seen the delicate bones of a 
female, bleached in the glaring mid-summer 
sun, and at its extremities bearing the im- 
press of the teeth of the ravenous wolf. 


72 


RETRIBUTION. 


Or another, held in his grasp the skull of 
a male, shattered by the blow of a bludgeon, 
or pierced by the more fatal bullet. Or 
yet another, with sad expression of 
countenance, was scrutinizing the fleshless 
skeleton of a little child’s hand, and near 
by, long tresses of human hair caught in 
the brambles and wild thorns, and tattered 
remnants of women’s and children’s vesture 
fluttering in the greasewood and artemesia 
undergrowth of the wild desert. 

The body of troops, to which reference 
is made, had but lately escorted the high 
judicial dignitaries of the U. S. Govern- 
ment to their positions of authority in the 
territory of Utah. The courts were 
organized, proceedings instituted and 
juries, of course chiefly composed of 
Mormons, enrolled. 

By these the ends of justice were mocked 
and scoffed at, and through the connivance 
of Mormon officials, the guilty ones, secret- 
ly warned, fled away to the mountain 
fastnesses from which they defied arrest 
by the authorities. 

Sorrowfully and with overpowering 
73 


RETRIBUTION. 


sense of indignation at the unavenged 
wrongs of their countrymen, these soldiers 
resumed their solemn march hack to the 
camping place, at the immediate site of the 
attack upon the emigrant train. 

No martial band gave forth its solemn 
funeral dirge, as in melancholy procession 
they bore back the remains of the massacred 
to a Christian burial. But together with 
the mournful wail of the night winds, up 
from the insulted soil, arose in its majesty 
that historic cry for justice for the spilled 
blood of an innocent brother. 

From that massacre, through the per- 
sistent efforts of a U. S. Agent and their 
judicial authorities, sixteen little children, 
ten girls and six boys, were redeemed from 
worse than Egyptian bondage. 

Brought again upon the spot where they 
were robbed of their parents and kindred 
and where all the tender ties of human life 
were so cruelly ruptured; once divested of 
the paralyzing terror with which they had 
been intentionally inspired during their 
term of enforced slavery; fully satisfied 
that they were now safe in the permanent 

74 


RETRIBUTION. 


possession of Americans whom they had 
been taught to contra-distinguish as against 
Mormons; placed face to face with the im- 
mediate scene of their frightful disaster; 
the golden gates of memory to some of the 
elder ones, threw open its long sealed doors. 

When questioned they recounted the 
piteous story of their own and their parents’ 
sufferings and described many incidents of 
the massacre, which seemed to have been 
branded upon their sensitive brains, and 
their stories were told in such words and 
with such feeling, as would have brought 
tears to the eyes of the most hardened 
criminal. 

At the sight of a mass of tangled sodden 
hair, as it lay among the yet unburied re- 
mains, recognized as those of at least 
twenty-two human bodies, the piteous wail 
which issued from the lips and heart 
depths of a lovely little flaxen-haired boy, 
— “My mother, oh my mother!” seemed 
worthy of reaching up into the highest 
heavens, and of calling down retribution 
upon the heads of those whose merciless 
ire had constituted him an orphan. 


75 


RETRIBUTION. 


The solemn ceremonials were at last com- 
pleted ; a Christian burial had been given 
to the remains of such of the members of 
the ill-fated train, the fragments only of 
whose bodies could be recovered. 

Over these remains was raised a rude 
monument of native rock on which was in- 
scribed : 

^VENGEANCE IS MINE, I WILL REPAY, SAITH 
THE LORD,” 


76 


CHAPTER XI. 


In our imagination let us now again turn 
our eyes eastward to another polished 
center of civilization and refinement. Let 
us enter another abode of wealth and ease 
whose cheerful and aesthetic accompani- 
ments would, it was hoped, tend to al- 
leviate the sorrows overhanging the domes- 
tic horizon and shrouding in gloom the 
happiness of two individuals with whose 
previous history we are already acquainted. 
The conversation to be repeated was being 
carried on in an attractive suburban 
residence of the beautiful city of Detroit. 

“0 Robert, can there be found no poss- 
ible means of rending the galling chains of 
memory which bind me to the past; and of 
shutting out from the deserted halls of 
my afflicted heart, the sad echoes reverber- 
ating through it? Will the time ever come 
when I shall no longer vainly yearn for 
the pure childish kiss of my only, my lost 


77 


RETRIBUTION. 


boy? Oh that in his trial I could have 
gone to him, even in the deepest humility, 
over desert and mountain, through plain 
and pestilence, that I might have wooed 
him back to my longing embrace ! ! !” 

‘‘Endeavor to be calm, my dear Eloise, 
and for your own sake to moderate your 
grief. Ask yourself the question, who is 
it among mortals, rich or poor, high or low, 
good or bad, who is not at some period of 
his or her earthly career the subject of 
similar trials? Our lives and those of our 
dear ones are but as gossamer threads, 
liable to be broken by any untimely wind. 
But after time, will come eternity, with its 
rehabilitation of all our lost joys. Confid- 
ing in the wiser hand at the helm, your 
boy as he was, will be again yours. 
Meanwhile, waste not your sweet life in 
unhealthy repinings.” 

It was but true, the heart of the still fair 
invalid was all but broken, as she sobbed 
herself to sleep on the bosom of the strong 
man, whose affliction was as grievous as 
her own, had he but dared to expose it. 

With another morn resilient nature had 


78 


RETRIBUTION. 


responded, and at the close of a fair sum- 
mer afternoon, believing that it would aid 
in restoring the bloom to the fading cheek 
of his delicate wife, Robert Gordon ordered 
up his handsome span of bays for a short 
airing. After a brisk drive through the 
rural surroundings, the coachman, as by 
arrangement, was turning in an unusual 
direction. Mrs. Gordon perceiving this 
began to show signs of increasing weariness, 
and was glancing towards her husband as 
if to say, “Surely, Robert, the drive has 
been long enough for to-day. 

He, however, anticipated her words by 
remarking: “You have long promised me, 
Eloise, to visit the new Institution in which 
I am so deeply interested. If you will par- 
don me I had arranged for that short visit 
this afternoon. I feel sure that a brief 
inspection of it will afford you pleasure.’’ 

The stately and magnificent building 
with its highly decorated portals now arose 
before them. 

Within one of its apartments arranged 
as a dormitory, a little boy of tender age 
lay sobbing on the breast of his nurse. 


79 


RETRIBUTION. 


“Oh nursie, I am so sorry I have been a 
bad boy. I think I would be a good boy, 
nursie, if I only had a mama to be good to. 
Where is my mama, nursie? Will she ever 
come back to me?” And following these 
words, again went up that sorrowful wail 
which had fallen upon the ears of Mrs. 
Gordon, as she entered from the remote 
end of the apartment. 

Touched by the piteous cry, as coming 
from an actual sufferer, she advanced 
towards the object which had attracted 
her attention. She then paused and leaned 
heavily upon her husband, who perceiving 
her increasing pallor, drew his arm gently 
around her. 

“Those eyes, Robert ! Do you not recall 
them? His own fair curls! Yes, too, his 
very tone of voice ! Through every tendril 
of my heart I feel drawn to this little waif. 
Oh, if he were but my own!” 

Robert Gordon’s sympathies were moving 
in the same direction. His plan was 
beginning to work. Already he perceived 
in his wife aw T akening energies, the dawn 
of reviving health both of body and spirit. 

80 


RETRIBUTION. 


Hardly had the little fellow caught sight 
of the advancing strangers, when he 
ceased crying and nestled closer to the 
bosom of the nurse. 

“Oh nursie, how beautiful and white 
she looks ! Is she a real angel? She must 
be like my own mama. My papa was a 
big fellow like that other one with her. 
She is looking at me, nursie. Would she 
be my mama?” 

Though uttered almost in a whisper, 
Mrs. Gordon caught the words, and with 
the suddenness of an electric impulse, 
releasing herself from her husband, she 
sprang forward and folded the startled 
child in her arms and was devouring him 
with kisses. 

The deep fountain of her pent up affect- 
ions had found vent, and her eyes were 
drowned in a flood of nature’s own tears. 

“Robert, let him be ours. I must and 
will claim him as my own.” 

Her husband’s strong arm was again 
around her as he whispered: “Yes, my love, 
it is my highest joy to gratify your every 
desire.” 


81 


RETRIBUTION. 


As he became soothed by the tender car- 
esses of the wife, Robert Gordon’s hand 
lingered long and lovingly on the little 
prat bier’s head, and as they were quietly 
leaving the room the child’s vision closely 
followed them both. 

“Now nursie, I will say my prayers just 
as you wanted me. Papa used to say them 
with me too. But I am so sleepy, nursie! 
where was it? oh yes: ‘For thine is the 
kingdom and the power and the glory.’ Oh 
nursie, I saw that up in the skies one time. 
I love you nursie, and the white angel too.” 

Robbie, for so they would call him, was 
soon in a new home, surrounded by wealth 
and affluence, and his heart yearnings met 
at every step by the tenderest outpouring 
of parental affection. 

As every day added to the beauty and 
strength of his physical development, so 
also were equally developed traits of char- 
acter which continually reminded Robert 
and Eloise Gordon of the bright boy from 
whom they had so long ago parted in sor- 
row. 

“I dreamed I heard Pont howl last night, 


82 


RETRIBUTION. 


Papa. Did you know old Pont? But I don’t 
think there are any wolves around here, 
like there were out there, Papa.” 

“Why, what do you mean, Robbie? You 
were surely never out among real wolves?” 

“Well my Captain-papa said Pont never 
barked but at real wolves. But I want a 
little gun, Papa, so I can shoot make believe 
wolves.” 

And here Mrs. Gordon whispered in her 
husband’s ear : “Can you learn nothing, 
Robert, of his early surroundings?” 

“A vague suspicion has arisen in my 
mind which makes me to fairly tremble. 
But I can learn nothing reliable, Eloise, 
absolutely nothing as to his parentage.” 

Nevertheless, Mr. Gordon wished it had 
been anything else than a gun, which was 
to make its appearance on the stage of 
Robbie’s early life. Its very mention re- 
minded him of an unfortunate circumstance 
in the history of his lost but never to be 
forgotten boy. 

This aversion to anything which savored 
of a military occupation, was more fully 
felt by Mrs. Gordon than by her husband. 


88 


RETRIBUTION. 


It was not long after this, when having 
been impressed by a brilliant street military 
procession then passing, Robbie came run- 
ning to his mama and saying: 

“Mama, soldiers are the most lovely men 
I have ever seen. When all dressed up, 
they are so nice and clean and I think they 
are almost as beautiful as women. Nursie 
must keep me nice and clean and I will be 
a soldier too.” 

“But Robbie, mama does not admire sol- 
diers. She fears that they learn to become 
too stern and harsh and sometimes perhaps, 
hard-hearted, and do not think long before 
they go to war and kill other men. Mama 
wouldn’t like her little Robbie to grow up 
to be a soldier.” 

“Why, Mama, nursie told me that George 
Washington used to be a soldier once. He 
was a good boy and loved his mama, and 
nursie said I must try and be like him.” 

To originate plans and methods of dis- 
couraging this taste of Robbie’s, w T as the 
subject of earnest discussion by his parents. 
The adoption of counter attractions as 
substitutes, were equally unavailiug. 


84 


RETRIBUTION. 


That Robert should become a soldier, 
and the door be thus opened to the disap- 
pointments and sorrows of a previous 
experience, met with the stern opposition 
of both Mr. and Mrs. Gordon. Yet it was 
a matter of surprise to them both, that 
after so long and persistent a combat on 
their part, their opposition had finally 
melted away and yielded to the fondest and 
most predominant desire of their adopted 
son. 

Later on, and up to the time of his vaca- 
tion from West Point, nothing had occurred 
to interrupt the close confidence w T hich from 
the very first, had existed between the 
parents and their adopted child. It was 
equally satisfactory to them to have dis- 
covered, that whilst Robert possessed all 
the real virtues of his idolized predecessor, 
that as yet there remained to be discovered 
the existence of even one of the few defects 
in his character. 

We pass by as already familiar the cir- 
cumstances attending the completion of an 
education at the U. S. Military Academy, 
noting only that the result, so far as Rob- 
85 


RETRIBUTION. 


bie was concerned, was one of crowning 
satisfaction to those so interested in it. 
His elevated standing as a classman, the 
position of confidence and affection gained 
in the estimation of his superiors, was to 
his parents a solace in their hours of quiet 
communion with one another, as also a 
source of pride and congratulation in their 
contact with the outer world. 

Rob himself, felt indeed a profound 
inward joy, that results had proved so sat- 
isfactory to those to whom he was so deeply 
indebted for their faithful guardianship. 


86 


CHAPTER XII. 


Over a quarter of a century has elapsed 
since our narrative has invited our atten- 
tion to the notorious events enacted within 
the rim of the Great Basin of the Rocky 
Mountains at the noted locality known as 
the Mountain Meadows. Meanwhile con- 
ditions and circumstances had changed. 

The U. S. Government had now become 
firmly re-established, and had resumed and 
supported its rightful authority in the 
territory of Utah. The ashes of the prime 
Mormon Prophet, Brigham Young, had by 
his deluded followers, been laid away with- 
in the precincts of the Mormon Temple. 
No longer was heard in the Mormon 
Tabernacle at Salt Lake City, the goading 
words of this imperious leader of the Mor- 
mon Hierarchy, inciting the so-called 
saints to revolt against the rightful 
authority of the U. S. Government. 

No longer the band of lawless brigands, 


87 


RETRIBUTION. 


denominated by the Church, — Danites, — 
or destroying angels, were found whetting 
their knives at the throats of recalcitrant 
religionists, who convinced of their error, 
and abjuring a faith found to be false, were 
seeking to return to the protecting power of 
the law and the abode of truth and justice. 

By reason of the rapid influx of Gentile im- 
migration, the temporal as well as spiritual 
power of Mormondom w?s on its wane. 
The time fixed by the lynx-eyed representa- 
tives of justice, when in the boastful and 
hypocritical words of the Mormon code, 
4 ‘law was to be laid to the line, and judg- 
ment to the plummet,” was fast approach- 
ing. 

Even now in assertion of its supremacy, 
and sustained by its rightfully employed 
co-ordinate authority, insulted justice was 
in the act of carrying into execution its 
long delayed process, of claiming its right- 
ful dues for acts long since committed in 
open violence to its restraining enactments; 
and of further redeeming itself, at least to 
some extent, from the odium incurred 
through its unusual delays. 


88 


RETRIBUTION. 


The scene about to be described was one 
of the most remarkable ever pictured in 
the judicial records of the American Re- 
public. 

The transaction about to occur was to be 
accepted as a most signal demonstration of 
an |over-ruling and avenging Providence, 
and of the authoritative mediumship of 
human law, as the exemplifier and execu- 
tor of Divine Justice. At no great distance 
from the spot at which the critical scene 
of this narrative has been laid, the tribunal 
of human justice had pronounced its judg- 
ment in the presence and on the person of 
an actual murderer and high official con- 
spirator, and an active representative of a 
band of assassins by whom had been com- 
mitted one of the most fiendish and brutal 
massacres ever perpetrated within the pales 
of an asserted civilization. The decision 
of righteous law had at last culminated in 
a sentence about to be imposed. 

Here upon the actual scene of the out- 
rage, that sentence was being sounded in 
the ears of the once sympathizing crowd of 
fanatics, who upheld an inhuman monster 


89 


RETRIBUTION. 


in the crime for which he was now to 
suffer. 

“Prisoner at the Bar: before a full and 
fair jury of your countrymen you have 
been convicted of planning and committing 
on the spot called the Mountain Meadows 
and in its vicinity, and upon the morning 
of the tenth day of September, eighteen 
hundred fifty-seven, the premeditated, 
wilful and brutal murder of a number of 
harmless emigrants, — citizens of the United 
States, — and whose names are herein 
mentioned ; and of having aided and 
abetted and manually assisted in the equal- 
ly fiendish massacre on this spot and 
grounds adjacent at the time aforesaid, of 
the remaining members of the forty families 
composing the train referred to, and con- 
sisting of men, women and children, sur- 
rendered to you in good faith and under 
promise of personal safety. And further 
of having barbarously outraged and 
fiendishly disfigured, many of the bodies 
of the victims of your brutish passions, 
and of having left their mutilated remains 
upon the open plain, as a prey to the 


90 


RETRIBUTION. 


savage beasts of the desert. You have been 
found guilty of all tie charges preferred 
against you. But within the pale of its 
lawful punishments, the executors of the 
law can find none adequate to the measure 
of your crime. 

“As, however, becomes its duty, this court 
does hereby sentence you to be taken from 
your place of confinement to the immediate 
scene of the massacre, as above indicated, 
and on the morning of the tenth day of 
September next, at an hour between the 
breaking of day and the rising of the sun, 
to be conducted to the scaffold and hung 
by the neck until you are dead. 

“May God lend a more ready ear to your 
cries for mercy than did you to the appeals 
of your helpless victims.” 

As the hour for the execution approached, 
from the neighboring hilltops, from which 
once poured down a stream of leaden hail, 
now gazed the pale faces of groups of the 
followers of the fanatical prophet, who 
once upheld the bloody butcher of the 
Danite band in the boastful crime. 

Now as the leader of the merciless be- 

91 


RETRIBUTION. 


siegers, in his last agony, cries out for a 
cup of cold water to cool his fevered 
tongue, it is found that the spring in the 
valley near by, once sealed up by his 
orders and barred by gates of death and de- 
struction, has closed up its fountain and 
refused to flow. 

The guard intrusted with the execu- 
tion of the decree of justice stands coldly, 
sternly and apathetically as the prepara- 
tions for death proceed. 

But in vain we gaze around. As yet no- 
where looms up the gloomy gallows, out- 
stretching its skeleton arms to enfold its 
victim. 

Appeals for the mitigation of the sen- 
tence have been made. On the ground 
that the chief instigator and director 
of the hideous crime has, by being 
called to his last account, at a higher tri- 
bunal, been removed from beneath the 
avenging court of human justice; and that 
two others of the principal perpetrators 
are said to be insane, the mitigation of the 
sentence had been accorded. 

The convict will die, as by his own 


92 


RETRIBUTION. 


entreaty, under the fire of musketry. A 
platoon of riflemen has advanced for the 
performance of its duty. 

It awaits the word of command. A let- 
ter has been handed to the martial looking 
young lieutenant, whose orders they are to 
obey. 

As he reads it his face becomes as pallid 
as that of the condemned. He still hesi- 
tates to utter the word of command. Is 
he about to fail in the performance of his 
responsible duty? 

A hideous truth has suddenly flashed 
upon him . V oices seem calling to him from 
skies overhead, from the glaring sunshine, 
from the witnessing hilltops, from the rocks 
and stones that cover the dead, from the 
shuddering sands beneath his feet, from 
every blood-stained blade of grass. All, all, 
call up the ghostly utterance : 

“It is he! It is he! This man, thy 
father’s murderer!” 

Quickly the blood resumed its wonted 
channels. The sword leaps from its scab- 
bard. The no longer ashen lips are 
unsealed. The order of death finds utter- 


93 


RETRIBUTION. 


ance in voice as clear and distinct as the 
peal of the evening signal gun. 

With the unanimity of one, twelve mus- 
kets are leveled. There is as it were but 
one sharp report and as many musket balls 
have pierced the body of the unnatural mon- 
ster, who is slain more mercifully than he 
slew, and falls upon the very spot stained 
by his brothers’ blood. 

Retribution at last ? ‘ ‘V engeance is mine, 
saith the Lord. I will repay.” 

A measure, a scant measure of Divine 
wrath has been meted out and through 
the slow, feeble arm of human instrumen- 
tality. The graver, weightier burden of 
deserved doom must await its imposition 
in the dread hereafter. 


94 


CHAPTER XIII. 


Night has at last let down its protecting 
veil over the sad face of wild untutored 
nature. Myriads of stars gaze calmly 
down from heaven’s blue vault, as if ignor- 
ant of this and other days of gory tragedy. 

Among the dark firs along the mountain 
side where still lie bleaching the bones of 
the Parishes, the Potters, the Yates, or 
perhaps of the unknown dead, there are 
lingering low whispers of other horrors, in 
mercy to our humanity still remaining 
unknown to us. In the wild wastes around, 
naught is heard save the occasional cry of 
some wandering night bird, the dismal 
howl of the wolverine or the slow and sol- 
emn tread of the sentinel, as he paces the 
measured limits of his own post of duty. 

In. yonder tent where a candle flickers 
low in its socket, the young lieutenant, 
after a weary day, lies tossing on his couch 
as if in fevered dream. He now stirs and 


95 


RETRIBUTION. 


has risen to his feet, replaces by a new one 
the low burnt taper, and has seated himself 
at a camp table, as if to write. Under a 
stirring inspiration, he is about to inter- 
pret the mysterious voices which have 
spoken to his inward being from the solemn 
scenes of the day. He is about to describe 
the vivid pictures cameraed on his child- 
brain, and which now under the influence 
of some inexplicable affinities, have moved 
out boldly to the surface in the plain, clear 
colors of actual life. 

The pen is already in his hand, and we 
may follow its tracings : 

* ‘My dear Father : 

u How every nerve of my body vibrates 
as with an indescribable agitation I write 
this. 

“I am far away from you and my mother 
in the wild bed of the Rockies, where the 
huge heaps of nature’s vast debris spread 
in endless chains of cliff and crag around 
me. 

“The events of this day have been yet 
wilder and more weird than the face of 
nature herself. The duties to which I have 

96 


RETRIBUTION. 


been called have been especially responsible, 
and in nature peculiarly distressful. The 
accompanying developments have been so 
strange and so startling, that I hardly 
know how to begin a narrative of them. 

‘‘As to-day, the troops under my command, 
having under guard a prominent Mormon 
leader, under sentence of death, were ap- 
proaching the locality where the execution 
was to take place, there seemed to open to 
my mind a distinct and increasing percep- 
tion of some familiarity with the scene 
around me. As we neared the immediate 
spot designated for the execution, and I 
was brought face to face with its sur- 
roundings, and with the people said to 
have been connected with the fatal trag- 
edy which has made the spot so notorious, 
there seemed to come to me as if by some 
special intuition, a positive conviction of a 
personal connection with the place, and the 
horrible associations connected with it. 

“There rose up before my eyes, spectral 
faces, familiar in childhood, faces of a 
father and a mother, the former in his lin- 
iaments so strikingly like your own, as to 


97 


RETRIBUTION. 


startle me. Standing face to face with the 
condemned, whose features too seemed 
strangely familiar, the whole frightful pan- 
orama in all the hideous details of the mas- 
sacre, unrolled itself like a curtain before 
me. I recalled many days of terror and 
dreadful suffering within a circle of wagons 
where people lay dead and wounded. I re- 
called feelings of suffering from thirst, and 
especially the fact of having been torn from 
the embrace of my father, whose bleeding 
arm was hanging at his side, and being 
then folded in the arms of my weeping 
mother. I could hear again her piercing 
screams as I was torn from her, and an ax 
driven through her brain, and her throat 
cut from ear to ear. 

“The dreadful terror of the occasion 
again returned upon me in all its original 
force. I stood spellbound, and they tell 
me I looked terrified, and as ghostly as a 
spectre. I can recall the fact that just at 
that time a man of conspicuous appear- 
ance stepped to my side, and handed me a 
folded paper without envelope or address, 
and which, supposing it might be some 


RETRIBUTION. 


order bearing on the execution, I immedi- 
ately unfolded and read, its contents being 
as follows: ‘The name you now bear by 
adoption, is in reality your just and right- 
ful one. The hands of the man about to 
be executed, are those which in cold blood 
slew both your father and your mother. 
When saved alive from the massacre, you 
were under the threat of death, forbidden 
to utter or use, or recognize your true 
name, and that name was soon forgotten 
by you. Your name as received from your 
own lips on that bloody day, was “Robby 
Gordon.”’ This paper was signed, ‘The 
man who had you in charge and by whom 
you were delivered to the Indian Agent of 
the U. S. Government.’ 

“I had felt somewhat exasperated because 
the sentence of this villainous criminal had 
been changed from a death on the gal- 
lows, which he richly deserved, to that of 
being shot as a soldier, whilst in his cow- 
ardly nature there never could have existed 
the faintest trace of soldierly spirit. But 
at once it flashed across my mind, that by 
this change in the mode of execution, the 


RETRIBUTION. 


very individual who had suffered such 
fearful wrongs at his hands, had been 
especially designated as an instrument of 
the Divine wrath in executing a just retri- 
bution on one who had so long defied 
justice and escaped a merited doom. In a 
moment my staggered faculties sprang 
with alacrity to their post. In a moment 
more the word of command was given, and 
the law vindicated to its fullest extent. 

4 ‘But enough of these horrible details 
which it has pained me to be compelled to 
communicate to you. Still, it is a satis- 
faction to have at last unraveled the mys- 
tery in which my early life was enshrouded, 

“I long to be with you and with my dear 
mother, whose sweet and tender sympathy 
has been the controlling factor in my life. 
After all that impulsive affection and deep 
reverence I entertained for you both from the 
first moment of our meeting, had its prop- 
er origin in the fact that I was indeed, 
bone of your bone and flesh of your flesh, 
and that you were in fact my own grand- 
father and grandmother. As additional 
confirmation of what I have imparted to 


100 


RETRIBUTION. 


you, there was handed to one of my men 
and afterwards transferred to me, a small 
gold locket, containing the miniature of a 
handsome man in the dress of a West 
Point cadet, and bearing a striking resem- 
blance to you. This was wrapped in a piece 
of soiled paper on the inside of which was 
written in pencil, • ‘This picture was found 
hanging around your neck at the time of 
your capture.’ On my return to Head- 
quarters I shall immediately apply for a 
leave of absence for a"f ew weeks, after which 
time, should it meet with your approval, 
I shall resign my commission in the army, 
and engage in some congenial pursuit, in 
the exercise of the duties of which I can 
enjoy the privilege of spending the remain- 
der of my life with those I dearly love, and to 
whom a life of devotion will be but a small 
return for the debt of gratitude I owe.” 


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